


A Brother’s Curse

by Maiika



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood and Gore, Gen, Horror, Naruto fantasy week: monstrous, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiika/pseuds/Maiika
Summary: Sasuke’s one goal since the fateful night that ruined everything is threatened when a wolf attacks.Hunters and prey are not always easy to distinguish.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15
Collections: Naruto Fantasy Week 2020





	A Brother’s Curse

**Author's Note:**

> My one contribution for Naruto Fantasy Week. And hey! There’s no Kakashi anywhere to be seen in this one, lol. New for me. This is a horror idea that I figured would fit for the prompt, Monstrous.

When Sasuke opens his eyes, he is tired. He knows he shouldn’t be, because wherever he is, he’s been resting. Yet the simple act of prying his eyelids apart seems to have zapped all his strength. He can’t sit up. He can’t even turn his head to the silhouette of the man slouched in the chair at his bedside. He can’t see much in the shadows, aside from the flashing red light from a contraption to his left. He doesn’t hear anything but shallow breaths from his mysterious companion and the quiet hum of machinery. He can _feel,_ though. In this stillness, his pain is a dull throb. He must be numbed by painkillers. He can tell he’s in a hospital bed. 

The _pain_ \- Sasuke doesn’t know how, but it finds its way past the IV meds flooding his veins, making its presence known. If Sasuke could move, he’d cradle his arm. It burns beneath the skin. Not like fire - like he’s melting from the inside. He feels it down to the bone, in the same way he feels it in his hip. This acidic, _persistent_ burn wants to radiate all the way through his extremities. Sasuke supposes he should be thankful he doesn’t have to know what it would feel like _without_ the painkillers.

He gasps as a wave of memories runs like a kaleidoscopic slideshow through his mind. Running. Escaping. A gray hall void of people, filled with splattered portraits. A dark street littered with bodies. More blood. His parents’ faces with vacant wide eyes, their open mouths caught in their final screams. 

Then, in another time, another place: Claws shredding his hip before he throws up a defensive arm. Screams.

Sasuke catches his breath and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead as he hears footsteps accompanied by the tinny whine of a set of wheels. His heart is still beating rapidly when the door cracks open, letting in a sliver of yellow. Light floods the room before Sasuke sees the nurse, his tired and complacent face illuminated, transforming when he turns his eyes to Sasuke. Those big brown eyes light up as the nurse dashes across the room, shaking awake the young man in the chair.

“He’s awake!” he tells him.

The man groans and adjusts the bridge of his slipping glasses. “Wha-Sas-“ with a gasp, he turns, and behind the spectacles, Sasuke sees wide, gray, unfamiliar eyes. “Sasuke! Thank God. We were so worried!”

Sasuke squints, and even _that_ is difficult, but not as difficult as using his voice which seems to pull through needles. “We?”

This man at his bedside looks too young to be senile. Sasuke’s never met this man who has no business being concerned about Sasuke. Yet he speaks as if he knows him and he’s not alone, when he _clearly_ is.

“Sasuke, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Kabuto,” the man says, rising slowly and deliberately, as if Sasuke is a feral animal dangerous to approach. “Orochimaru sent me to look after you while he went home to catch some sleep.”

“Hn,” Sasuke says, annoyed, because his new foster parent _abandoned_ him in the hospital. Of course.

Kabuto grins, a twinkle in his eye apparent behind the reflective light catching his lenses. “I insisted. You see, he’s been here all day, Sasuke, refusing to leave your side.”

“I’ll go fetch the doctor,” the nurse says, clasping his hands together and looking between Kabuto and Sasuke. “I’ll let you two catch up before I return to check Sasuke’s vitals.”

“Catch up?” Sasuke scoffs.

He has no catching-up to do with this guy he’s never met. He doesn’t know why Orochimaru considers Kabuto a suitable substitute for his presence, but in Sasuke’s eyes, with this move he’s already proven himself a poor foster parent. Fortunately, Sasuke doesn’t have to play along for much longer. He’ll be eighteen soon. Two more years and he’ll be free to go his own way. 

He eyes Kabuto as the nurse leaves the room. Kabuto holds Sasuke’s gaze. He’s patient as he smiles, but beneath that, something lurks in his eyes. Hairs rise on the back of Sasuke’s neck, but he simply closes his eyes with a huff. He doesn’t know what this guy wants from him, or Orochimaru for that matter, but whatever it is, it can’t be worse than what he’s been through.

He’s not afraid

...of them.

* * *

“Do you remember what happened to you?” says the old man.

Sasuke eyes him over the steel bar lining his hospital bed. He’s ready to get out of here. Not to go home, like so many people released from a hospital would be. He has no home. The place with a bed holding his belongings is only a temporary road bump on his path - much like this dumb psychiatrist, who thinks by getting Sasuke to confess his tragic life story, he’ll actually make a difference in Sasuke’s cursed life. Still, in spite of his disinterest, the memory of last night’s terrifying attack surfaces. Sasuke winces, shutting his eyes against the haunting image of the creature with dark fur and yellow eyes lunging for him. His heart rate spikes. That monster had been so large. So powerful. And Sasuke had lost blood, so _much_ blood, until he’d lost consciousness and ended up here.

Sasuke grits his teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Understandable,” the old man says with a nod.

He clicks his pen and scribbles something on the clipboard in his arms, and Sasuke rolls his eyes. This man doesn’t understand anything. He _won’t_ understand anything. He’s never been mauled by a wild animal walking down his street. He never had to find his parents gruesomely murdered, only to learn the whole town around them had suffered the same fate. 

Everyone, dead. 

Sasuke was left alone that night. He’s been alone _since_ then, in spite of school friends and authority figures trying to give him something to hold onto. They never succeeded - because they don’t understand.

Nobody understands.

Except, perhaps, Itachi - if he’s out there somewhere. He wasn’t there _that_ night, years ago now. He wasn’t left for dead with the others. He didn’t return to console Sasuke over what they might’ve _both_ seen. He just...disappeared, leaving Sasuke alone.

Sasuke turns his scowl on the psychiatrist who _thinks_ he understands. “Can I go home now? I’m tired. And these bindings are a real bitch. I need to get out of this bed.”

The psychiatrist eyes him warily, but relents with a sigh. “Just be careful your wounds don’t get infected. The nurses say they don’t show any signs of healing yet. If it gets any worse, reddens, or you have fever-“

“I know the signs,” Sasuke says, grasping cold metal for support and kicking his feet over the side of the bed. “I’m not an idiot.”

The psychiatrist raises his brows, but doesn’t press further. “Take care, Mr. Uchiha.”

“Whatever,” Sasuke says before he stands, feeling the weight of his aching and tired body pull at the tight, inflamed skin around the gash at his hip.

He leaves the hospital later thinking he _must_ be having hallucinations from the painkillers he’s on, because he can almost swear he saw Itachi’s dark hair, pale skin, and perceptive eyes following him from the waiting room before he follows Orochimaru and Kabuto through the automatic glass doors.

But when Sasuke turns to look again - nothing. There is absolutely no one in the waiting room, not even a swinging door to confirm someone _had_ been there.

* * *

His wounds aren’t healing. 

He’s unwrapped them and wrapped them again, changing the gauze and applying the prescribed ointments, but the wounds remain deep and ragged, a pitiful red disaster constantly pulsing against his untorn and unblemished skin, like the persistent dripping of a faucet. No blood pours from them any longer, and they hurt slightly less, but these are the only improvements Sasuke sees. No one else knows. He refuses to let Kabuto look at them, regardless of how insistent the sleeze is about it. Orochimaru doesn’t try, only asks after his condition, but Sasuke doesn’t indulge him with the truth. It’s strange, but it seems every time Sasuke lies and assures his new foster that he’s fine, the pale older man’s face contorts into a sly smile and his eyes seem to glow almost golden. It’s like he’s _amused_ by Sasuke’s answers. 

Every time Sasuke leaves Orochimaru’s presence, he wraps his hand around the wound on his arm and smooths down the heat emanating from his skin. His own touch is always cool in comparison to his wounds.

* * *

Sasuke wakes with a gasp. 

He doesn’t know why he’s alarmed, but his adrenaline is pumping. He inhales deeply, recognizing the faint scent of copper. Not knowing _how_ he recognizes it, he shakes off the instinct to growl and scrambles from the bed, ignoring the stinging protest of torn muscle at his hip.

“What?” he questions aloud, more to himself than whatever audience is in his room, until he realizes there _is_ an audience in his room, and he redirects the question to them. “What do you _want?”_

The room was pitch black when he woke - _is_ pitch black now - but Sasuke’s vision seems to be sharper than usual. He can see the figure standing there at the end of his bed. He tries not to recognize the sleek profile of hair tucked back at a height that is exactly right to be _him._ When Sasuke can’t stop filling in the blackened voids with Itachi’s features, he curses under his breath and has to look away. The idea of speaking to his brother frightens him even _more_ than the memories still haunting him of his loved ones’ mutilated corpses.

“Foolish little brother.”

Sasuke’s breath catches in his throat. He had his suspicion, but that voice confirms it. Still, he cannot believe he’s right. He’s trapped in time, frozen in the instant he hears a voice he’s been chasing for over a decade. Nothing about him has changed. And everything has changed. He’s come for him. To finally finish what he started? To confess to his sole living relation? To torment Sasuke further by taunting him? Sasuke’s ears ring as the shadow shifts closer to the bed.

“Still in denial,” Itachi adds, his voice laden with disappointment.

“Denial?” Sasuke roars.

He clenches his teeth and chokes back the bile rising from his throat. His anger rushes forth and mobilizes him, overcoming his fear. He balls his fists, seething as the desire to attack his brother, to maim him and hurt him and ask him why, why, why rushes over him like an instinct he can’t control.

Itachi attacks first.

Sasuke is knocked on his back. He hits the ground with bruising impact. His brother’s blood-stained fingers spread across his face, sealing his vision, trapping his screams. Sasuke writhes, but his brother’s strength is incredible, inhuman. 

He panics. 

His breathing becomes frantic as he realizes he is going to die. There’s no way he can fight Itachi like this. He doesn’t know why his brother wants him dead. He doesn’t want to know why he wanted the others dead all those years ago. He’d never been sure Itachi did it, but now Sasuke is certain of it. Itachi is a killer. The _presence_ he carries with him screams of danger, the blood he wears tonight is evidence enough.

Itachi killed _them_ first, then let Sasuke suffer alone with the consequences. Now, all these years later, it’s finally Sasuke’s turn to join his family in death. He’s willing to accept it. It would be a mercy compared to these past years running in fear, not understanding any of it, chasing a shadow who didn’t want to be caught.

“I tried to save you from this,” Itachi whispers in his ear, his rasp a deeper cut to Sasuke’s soul than the wounds still penetrating his flesh and muscle. “But it’s too late. You’re cursed, little brother.”

The moment Itachi’s hand peels away, Sasuke snarls. _“You’re_ cursed!”

Itachi backs off, rising to his feet with grace. “Yes.”

“Dammit, Itachi!” Sasuke cries, because without Itachi even moving, Sasuke has an intense sensation that Itachi will be gone, and this will be it - _all_ the answer he ever gets. “Tell me what the hell-“

“Get away from Orochimaru, Sasuke,” Itachi says. He’s still calm, still quiet, but his voice has taken on a hard edge. “He plans to use you. He wants what we are.”

“You _ran out_ on me,” Sasuke sobs, and he curses himself for showing this asshole any weakness. “You come back now? And expect me to _listen_ to you?”

“I don’t expect anything. Expectations only lead to disappointment.”

“Get out,” Sasuke says, turning his head. Itachi couldn’t be more right. Sasuke realizes now he’s been chasing his brother for nothing. “I don’t need your words of wisdom about foster parents I have to deal with because of _you_ being a monster.”

“You don’t know how right you are,” Itachi says as his voice glides toward the open window. “The full moon is only a week away. Next Wednesday.”

“So?”

“Be prepared.”

Sasuke snaps his gaze to the window, where starlight pours in, the only counter to the weight of the darkness. But no silhouette is there. Sasuke groans as he rises to his feet, his knees and injuries protesting the effort it takes to pull himself back into bed. He knew Itachi would leave him again. He hadn’t expected these cryptic messages, or to be _glad_ he’d finally seen him. Sasuke’s angry. He shouldn’t feel his spirit lightened. Itachi came with _bad_ news, if any, and left again.

But as Sasuke rests his head back on his pillow, all he can think of is being prepared. He doesn’t know what will happen on the full moon, but deep down, he fears something he can’t identify. He eventually drifts off to sleep, dreaming of a wolf perched atop a roof with blood on its fangs, basking in the moonlight, looking down on a massacred neighborhood - bearing Itachi’s cold eyes.

* * *

The day of the full moon starts off as nothing special. 

Sasuke’s hip and arm itch, which he attributes to a sign of finally healing. Sasuke doesn’t see anyone acting out of the ordinary beyond the commonplace weirdness on full moons. If anything is unusual, it might be Orochimaru and the way he attends to Sasuke more closely, treating him to a special breakfast and offering to let him stay home from school for the day. Sasuke doesn’t care to be near him, and later he doesn’t like the prodding from his classmates at this new school, who seem far too invested in Sasuke’s life for people who know next to nothing about him. Overall, he is just annoyed. And itchy. Even his _teeth_ seem to itch.

He doesn’t realize until he gets home and the sun begins to set that his temper is shorter than usual. It’s probably brought on by suffering through itching and general discomfort all day, so he shakes off his suspicions pulling his mind back to Itachi’s visit.

When he arrives at the house to find the ripped edges of a letter from a name and address he doesn’t have the fortitude to recognize, knowing he can never again acknowledge his only true and close friend, Sasuke loses it. Orochimaru, or Kabuto, or whoever tore into that letter had _no_ right. It’s his property. Only he has the right to see Naruto’s writing, to know Naruto’s pain, to have a full sense of his concern for Sasuke. Sasuke might’ve stubbornly remained with Orochimaru to spite Itachi’s warnings, but regardless of that, he’s leaving now. Orochimaru served his purpose. It’s time for Sasuke to move on.

He heads out to see the sky turned a splash of bright colors, the sun set to just a sliver of light over the horizon. With his pack slung over his shoulder, only his most essential belongings and Naruto’s letter tucked inside, Sasuke braves the darkening streets. He’s done this before - crept through alleys, scourged dumpsters for food. It’s never been easy to live alone. But he prefers it to living with strangers with fake smiles. Fosters who feel saintly for taking in damaged goods like himself. Cursed goods.

As Sasuke wanders on foot, watching the light fade from the world, he wonders more on Itachi’s use of the word ‘cursed’. Because Sasuke’s life _has_ been cursed, he knows that. He scratches at his arm, picking away the gauze, feeling the itch grow more intense as his feet start to ache from walking. As he thinks, he realizes Itachi _doesn’t_ use ‘cursed’ in the same way. His use of the word bears more weight. The thought makes Sasuke shiver, even as the air grows still.

Sasuke looks up to see gray clouds drifting apart, revealing the white glow of the full moon. Everything clicks the moment the iridescent light hits his eyes. Itachi _definitely_ meant something more. He warned Sasuke to be prepared, but Sasuke _isn’t_ prepared for this onslaught of awareness that surges through him. 

He steps back, wanting to stop this before it starts, knowing something bad is happening. He can feel it in his bones. They feel like jelly, enough for him to envision his spine going crooked, his eyes tearing. There’s nowhere to run. He has nowhere to hide. There’s no way to chase it away, either. It’s _inside_ him, it’s been triggered, and there is nothing Sasuke can do but bear it.

Intense itching drives him against his will to sink his nails into the gauze at his arm, removing the safety of layers over his wounds in search of _some_ semblance of relief. The wounds are open, exposed and raw as the day they were made, ragged claw marks in his skin. He’s scrambling to relieve his arm when his hip throbs with the need for attention. Sasuke digs deeper into his arm, still itching, still finding no relief. 

He ducks into an alley after receiving a strange look from a passerby - a bum who has no business judging him. Sasuke unfastens his pants, pulls down his zipper, and peels the jeans away before ripping the gauze from his hip with a triumphant yell.

He sinks his nails in deep this time, dimly noting how much longer and sharper they feel. This wound has been neglected far too long. It itches so much more. He doesn’t care that his blood sprays against the brick wall he’s leaning on. He doesn’t care to acknowledge the spike of pain caused by his own self-mutilation. He even denies to himself that he sees patches of dark fur beneath his fingernails, tearing away from his flesh.

With a choked howl of agony, Sasuke falls to his knees. He is hot, so hot, and the itch is spreading now, much like the pain had spread beyond his wounds back at the hospital. He rubs his back against the ragged sharp edges of brick wall, panting. He gouges his fingernails into his arm and hip, using both arms to tend to both wounds. It is only when his forearm is dripping with blood that he realizes the extent of the damage he’s doing. It’s like claws are reaching into him, tearing away flesh and fur, rebuilding his skin with something that isn’t him.

A chill racks his body, makes him shrink into the cold brick at his back while writhing in agony, until a pain strong enough to make him forget the itch seems to take his feet out from under him. He falls to all fours, his palms shredding against the cobblestone with the collision, igniting a new itch. His tailbone begins to ache and his teeth to throb. That’s when he catches sight of them at the end of the alley. He doesn’t know how he manages any awareness of his surroundings in his current state, but the glow in contrast to the darkness catches his eye. 

A pair of golden eyes, glowing with animalistic slits for pupils stare back at him just as Sasuke releases a howl at the sensation of something ripping through his chest. Ripping, and rebuilding. He trembles and falls and the itching starts to finally, _finally_ recede.

Then he hears a deep growl. 

Sasuke forces his head to turn, his neck cracking with the forced effort, to see the same horrifying sight he saw the night of his parents’ murder - a beast with dark fur and a hideous snout baring oversized teeth. 

It’s the _same_ animal. 

Sasuke chokes back the shock, unable to run, unable to do anything but freeze and allow his body to overtake him.

* * *

Sasuke opens his eyes to bright sunlight and drifting white clouds spanning a blue sky. He’s not in an alley. He’s in an open field surrounded by rocks with no civilization in sight. He feels some pain, but it isn’t immediately alarming. He’s sure it’s his wounds, still unhealed, still sore, but no longer itching.

It was all a bad dream.

When Sasuke drops his gaze from the sky, his heart plummets with it.

It isn’t the blood littering the pale body on the grass that draws his eye, or the expanse of shredded muscles and torn pale skin, but Itachi’s face, looking serene and tranquil. Itachi lays on his back, blood pouring from his parted lips as he smiles at the sun.

Sasuke’s chest is racked by a trapped sob, but he doesn’t let any sound escape as he reaches for his brother’s mangled hand. He still doesn’t understand what’s happened, but he knows his brother is dying. The last person he has left is _dying_ right in front of him. Itachi can’t possibly live long, not with his bare chest torn open - a gaping hole where his sternum should be. Gashes cover him from limb to limb, and he is as naked as Sasuke. He’s shredded into ribbons of ivory and crimson, no longer recognizable as a man. 

“Itachi,” Sasuke rasps.

“I knew it.” Itachi coughs, and Sasuke waits for more words to pour out of him. “I knew your wolf would come after my wolf.”

“What the _fuck,_ Itachi?” Sasuke sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Itachi says, and in that moment, Sasuke can see through the haze of his tears, in Itachi’s eyes, the deepest sorrow he’s ever seen, as well as a lingering trace of that mysterious golden glow. “The first time...you lose yourself.”

“Itachi!” 

Sasuke’s brows pinch as he fights off, with a blink, more tears burning at the back of his eyes. What happened last night can’t be real. Itachi can’t _possibly_ know what Sasuke experienced. His apology, though, is a confession that fits what Sasuke already suspects. Itachi was the one who killed their parents. Everyone. That day...if Itachi had lost himself...if it had been like that...

“I left because...you…”

Sasuke hiccups and squeezes Itachi’s hand, because he understands now. He understands the loss of control from last night was not anything _anyone_ could’ve fought. He understands that if Itachi awoke to _that,_ much like Sasuke is waking to this, he wouldn’t stick around his baby brother who was lucky enough to be absent for the attack. He wasn’t _abandoning_ Sasuke. He was _saving_ him. But in turn, he’s destroyed him anyway. Only, Sasuke’s has been a slow death. 

A cursed decay of life.

“You couldn’t live - with yourself-“ Itachi says between winces, his chest heaving and pouring blood where his heart should be pumping. “I - always - watched. Didn’ want you -same.”

“Itachi!” Sasuke says, his eyes going wide as Itachi’s head lolls to the side, his jaw going slack.

Itachi’s wheezing and shallow rising of his chest let Sasuke know he’s not dead. Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. Sasuke’s misery is worsening with the growth of his understanding. _He_ killed Itachi. Itachi somehow had enough control to place himself in front of Sasuke at the right time. Sasuke could have killed many more last night. He could’ve destroyed so many lives under the influence of the full moon and desires and instincts that weren’t his own. Now, he’s killed his long lost brother instead. Itachi might think this is a fair trade, but Sasuke grips his hand, swearing someone will _pay_ for this.

When he looks at Itachi’s face again, Itachi’s eyes are open, locked on Sasuke, and strangely at peace.

“Goodbye, little brother.”

“Itachi!” Sasuke throws himself over Itachi, wrapping his arms around his back and raising him to hold tight against Sasuke’s chest.

He holds his brother limp in his arms and releases the tears he’s never shed. Itachi’s face feels cool as Sasuke presses their cheeks together, but he doesn’t want to let him go. When he lets Itachi go, it will be for good. He’ll really be dead. Sasuke will truly be alone.

But at length, he lets go. He lets go of Itachi, lets go of his past, and in light of all that’s happened, latches onto revenge in place of it all.

* * *

The moon calls to him now. 

He hears it like he didn’t hear it the first time. Now he doesn’t fight the itch. He doesn’t hide from the population. He answers the moon’s calling, much like he imagines his brother had learned to do in his final years. His wolf is powerful, after all. The curse can become a gift when wielded correctly.

And Sasuke is going to wield it for all its worth tonight.

He’s found Orochimaru by tracking his scent. The man emerges into the dark alley from a tavern, Kabuto dutifully at his side. Sasuke has done his research. He knows now that his admission into Orochimaru’s home was no accident. 

Orochimaru had been tracking Itachi ever since news of the incident around their neighborhood spread. He knew what Itachi was and wanted to use him. Deciding to take in the younger brother, drawing wolves to him when he was vulnerable and had the genetics to survive the change, that might’ve seemed a good plan for someone wanting use of a werewolf. But Sasuke has his own goals, and no one is getting in his way. Orochimaru knows what Sasuke _is,_ and Sasuke can’t let that stand. Kabuto likely does too, and so tonight, they both die. 

By the time Sasuke’s done ripping his claws through them, sinking his throbbing teeth into their flesh, feeding on their misery and pain, the taste for blood becomes greater than the sweetest food he’s ever sampled. He’ll carry on now, tearing down all those responsible for inflicting this curse on his family. When they’re gone, surely he can find more. 

Sasuke will always find someone new to feed his hunger for vengeance.


End file.
